


These Dutiful Lives

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: Among Magic and Relics [2]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Boys In Love, Caring Wong, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Stephen Strange Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 05:10:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19660480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Wong takes care of Stephen in the aftermath of the funeral.





	These Dutiful Lives

**Author's Note:**

> I'm falling in love with these two so freaking fast.

Wong watched.

He was always watching these days, watching Stephen and the false mask he had painstakingly crafted in the aftermath of the end of the world. Today was the day Wong feared it would finally crack, with the too hot sun beating down on suit clad patrons and the aura of despair and grief thickening the air around them.

Wong knew Stephen could sense it. He was extraordinary in that way, and so horribly tragic.

They stood still on the lawn before lake, watching in silence as the little tribute to Tony Stark was floated away into the serene waters. It was a gesture meant more for the child then for those gathered. Still, Wong didn’t miss the way Stephen held himself so stiffly, like letting his muscles relax for even a moment would leave him shattered.

Wong’s heart ached.

He had seen a lot in his years at Kamar-Taj. Had his own nightmares to fight away most nights. This…Stephen…was an enigma in the worst kind of way. Wong didn’t know how to fix this, how to fix him, not with all the books at his disposal, all the magic that flowed from his center.

It broke his heart.

Stephen Strange, when he’d walked into his library, had been an arrogant fool. Wong hadn’t given him a second thought until he began showing up with glittering eyes and poorly conceived jokes. His persistence was irritating as it was flattering.

It was hopeless after that.

Dormammu happened and revelations about the Ancient One. Wong had felt blindsided, but then he looked at Stephen, exhausted and bloody, usually bright blue eyes dulled with haunting imagery that he could only imagine. Yet, he stood on that street, proclaiming to Mordo that it was necessary, and he should have seemed righteous and frightening but all Wong could think was; she was right.

The Ancient One always knew what she was doing.

He idly wondered if she knew that Wong would fall in love with him and that Stephen would slowly stumble his way into the same.

The crowd was dispersing. Stephen didn’t move. Wong didn’t leave his side. Never would again.

He waited until most of them had scattered, moving inside or to secluded lakeside spots, before reaching a handout to touch Stephen’s trembling ones. Something told him it wasn’t from his injuries, not this time.

“Stephen?” he murmured.

He started, turning to look at him and the glistening in his eyes, the wisp of green swirling within was all Wong needed to see to guide him away from curious and judgemental eyes and to a quiet place where he could summon a portal.

The Time Stone might be gone, but it had left remnants of itself inside of Stephen.

Wong knew the signs now. Distant gazes, pale skin, watering eyes, green swirling in the hidden depths of his kaleidoscope eyes. It was like it didn’t want him to go, to be separate more then absolutely necessary and the realization terrified Wong.

Stephen had used the stone twice now. Both times had extracted a price that few men could carry, but then, Stephen had always been exceptional. It was for that reason alone, Wong believed they would find their way through this.

He didn’t protest as Wong nudged him through the portal and into the sitting room. Stephen’s eyes were still distant, reliving horrors he could only imagine. They were greeted by the Cloak, which was quick to wrap itself around its master.

As always, Stephen relaxed in its hold and let himself be sat down in the armchair. It was difficult not to be jealous of that trust, but then Wong knew to just be glad, in moments like these, Stephen could get comfort from anything.

There were unshed tears in Stephen’s eyes, though they wouldn’t fall. Wong couldn’t remember the last time, after Dormammu, he’d ever seen him cry and the realization made his heart ache. Wong reached out and smoothed back his hair, encouraged when there was no flinch, he kept up a slow, steady petting, waiting out the memories.

And they were memories. Painful even if they never came to pass. Wong often wondered if Stephen wouldn’t have preferred the futures where they lose, if it would have been less painful then this one now. But then, Stephen had always been overly self-sacrificial.

Wong couldn’t bring himself to hate that quality. It was what made Stephen such a good man. What saved billions of lives. What brought him back to Wong.

“Wong?”

He looked down to find Stephen looking up at him, those weathered eyes focusing and choosing to believe what was right in front of him. Progress. Sometimes it took days to convince him this was real, and he wasn’t still drifting in the abyss of the Stone.

“Stephen,” he murmured. “How are you feeling?”

He swallowed thickly, looked away, “that was real, wasn’t it? The funeral?”

Wong had never been one to parse words. Honesty was the steppingstone between them, both in friendship, love, and hardship, “yes.”

Stephen nodded slowly.

“I’ll get us some tea,” Wong said to the quiet. Stephen needed space, a moment to pull himself together and Wong was more then happy to provide it, offer normalcy in the midst of such grand and world shattering events.

He turned for the kitchen, only for the edge of the Cloak to grab his hand and squeeze, making him pause. Stephen didn’t meet his eyes when he whispered, “thank you,” and the Cloak released him.

Wong had been with Stephen long enough to know that thank you, meant _I love you._

Treacherous hope swelled in his chest.


End file.
